


Sometimes We Were Sweet Nothings

by moonsungiee



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Attempt at angst, Bang Chan Has Commitment Issues, But there is plot hehe :D, Chan is a high achiever, Chan is a producer who loves cassettes and vinyls don't come at me, Changbin uses they/them and Felix uses bun/buns, Eventual Smut, Heavy Angst, I tried to be poetic lmfao, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Made For Each Other, Minho is a painter, Minho is non binary and uses they/them!, Minho is relatable, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Fandoms Not Mentioned in Tags, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Roommates, Sharing a Room, Smoking, Song Lyrics, Song fic, This wasn't supposed to be chaptered, You can skip that chapter if neccessary uwu, roommates to strangers to lovers to exes to lovers, slow burn maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsungiee/pseuds/moonsungiee
Summary: Sometimes, it’s best to quit when you’re aheadSometimes, it’s better not to try if you may failSometimes, it’s better to walk away than stayUsually, I would let that stop me.I knew that it would stop me again today.My name is Lee Minho. I go to JYP University;  Your average college student.And I’m in love with my roommate.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Seo Changbin, Kim Seungmin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13





	1. Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wngpxppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wngpxppy/gifts), [minchanted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minchanted/gifts).



Sometimes, it’s best to quit when you’re ahead

Sometimes, it’s better not to try if you may fail

Sometimes, it’s better to walk away than stay

Usually, I would let that stop me.

I knew that it would stop me again today.

My name is Lee Minho. I go to JYP University; Your average college student. 

And I’m in love with my roommate.

Sometimes, it's because he falls asleep on the couch, production files open, headphones hanging loosely around his neck. 

Sometimes, it's because he drives 15 minutes out of his way to go to this Chinese place. After all, I like it better there.

Sometimes, it's because we ignore all our piled up work just to talk all night; thinking back, I don’t really remember whether we spoke about anything significant. 

But usually, it's because he’s him.

His name is Bang Chan. He goes to JYP University; Your typical high achiever college student.

And he has no idea that I’m in love with him. 

  
  


He’s been gone for the weekend. 

Sometimes, he spends his weekend with extended family members.

Sometimes, he spends his weekend with his friends.

Sometimes, he goes on trips and other times he goes for work. 

You see Chan always tries to keep himself busy, I admire that passion in him. I wish I was half as passionate regarding anything like him.

But usually, he spends his weekends with me.

He’ll be home in fifteen minutes. I’ve changed my shirt at least 5 times. Combed my hair more than that and messed it up again.

  
  


I don’t know if it is obvious yet. But I am nervous. 

There's a small knock on the door. 

He’s here. 

The door opens and, “Minho~ I missed you,” the shorter shouts, enveloping them into his strong arms, falling onto the couch. They pretend to be annoyed by his behaviour. ( _They are not_ )

“How was your weekend?” the brown-haired boy asks, pretending to care less than he does. 

“It was alright, Sometimes I don’t know why I go out when I’d much rather spend it here. With you,” answers Chan nonchalantly, like it was the _most_ normal thing to say. And maybe it was. To him.

But to Minho, words like that. Sweet gestures like his usually would mean more to them. And it did. 

Their heart leaps at his words. He missed me?

Sometimes, I want to ask him why he treats me so nicely.

Sometimes, I want to ask him if he’s really being nice or are we flirting.

Sometimes, I’m pretty sure we are flirting but I really want to clarify…

But usually, I just shut up.

  
  


Today, however, Minho decided to flirt back. “Yeah, Yeah...I know you missed me,” they say before glancing at the older and winking.

A slight flush takes over his features, cheeks now dusted with a soft pink shade. **_Is he blushing?_ **

It’s probably just my imagination. “Shut up,” Chan says before shoving the brunette into the corner of their shared couch. He shifts from his position, only to lay his head on to their lap and stares at the TV. Clearly avoiding the younger’s gaze. The tips of his ears turning bright red.

**_Oh, he’s definitely blushing._ **

“What are you watching?” he asks, wrinkling his nose, Minho’s hands had now found his way onto the strands of the older’s hair, _purple. It suits him so well._

“Hmm,” the brunette slightly hums, not paying any attention to the screen before them or the pondering question hanging in the air...too preoccupied by thoughts of the older, and how this felt so familiar. Yet so foreign.

  
  


Sharing the couch meant we shared watching TV together.

Sometimes we watched sports, I really did not enjoy it. But It fascinated me to watch Chan enjoy it, so…

Sometimes we watched Netflix instead, last weekend we watched the notebook together. 

Sometimes we watch dumb game shows.

Usually we rewatch pokemon.

“You were watching Pokemon, without me????” Chan’s voice exploded, demanding, feigning hurt and betrayal; cutting off Minho’s dreamy supply of what-if thoughts. 

“Huh?”, Minho sputtered, confusion written all over his face, “Oh..OHHH, that—,”

“Yes, that!!”, the newly purple-haired boy huffed, now sitting up, arms crossing his chest. “We agreed to always watch Pokemon together!?”

Minho smiles gently before responding with a, “I don’t remember agreeing to any such thing,”

Chan gasps, and tries to snatch the remote from Minho’s hand, “Start over the program, right now!”

The brunette snickers before dodging Chan’s grabby hands, “Quiet down Chan, I am watching this now,” 

**_Why am I being so annoying?_ **

Chan swats their chest, “Stop being so annoying,” his eyes crinkle at the sides, pretty little half-moons lighting up with a glow, meaning he’s messing around.

Minho makes up a lie. “I was watching another show dumbass, this just started,” 

He laughs.

**_I missed you._ **

The younger breathes a sigh of relief. Then immediately can’t breathe again when Chan says, “I have something to tell you,”

His eyes dart back and forth between the brown-haired boy and the small space between them. **_Shit._ **

**_I came on too strong, didn’t I? He knows...He hates me._ **

  
  


**_How do I get out of this now?_ **

“Um, Yeah...Sure,” they turn towards Chan, breathing slightly erratic, “What’s up—”

“—Dude?”

  
  


_Dude?_

_Really??_

  
  


**_Why did I say that?_ **

  
  


Sometimes, I’m an idiot.

No, Usually I am an idiot.

  
  
  


“So, here’s the thing—,” he starts, and Minho’s stomach turns into a pit of caged butterflies. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately and sometimes I think that,” Chan looks at Minho, his expression unreadable.

  
  


‘...that I don’t like you at all’

  
  
  


‘...that you really annoy me’

  
  
  


‘...that I want to move out’

  
  


What they didn’t expect was the next few words Chan spoke, “I really want a boyfriend,” 

  
  


I choked on my own spit. 

Minho’s eyes must have looked like wide saucers because Chan quickly explained, “Minho, you know I haven’t really had any experience with boys before...I just—”

It was the younger’s turn to go beet red.

_I am right here?_

“O-Oh..um. Yes, well...Uh—,” Minho stuttered, “Um, D-Do you...You know, like someone then?” 

Chan closed the distance between Minho and himself, “Actually, yes.” Their knees were touching, so close. So close that Minho could almost hear Chan’s heartbeat just as fast as theirs. _Almost._

“But, I don’t think they feel the same way about me…” somehow Chan looked saddened by that fleeting thought.

**_Wasn’t I obvious enough?_ **

“Oh, Who is it?”

Chan spoke softly, “You don’t know them,”

  
  
  


_Ah._

  
  


"They don't go here…" 

I just stare at him. 

I want to say.

Sometimes I love you so much that it hurts.

Sometimes all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.

Sometimes when you are around I can’t think straight.

But usually, I say nothing.

  
  


_Almost._

  
  


“What do I do?” Chan whispers, “I really like them Minho, But I don’t have…..the courage? To ask them out,”

The crinkles around his eyes were back. Half-moons they had fallen for.

“Channie…” Minho lifts their hand to caress the olders face, “You are beautiful, talented, literally the sweetest man I know, If they don’t like you back...Honestly they are missing out,”

“Besides—” the brunette starts, “If they don’t reciprocate your feelings, you’ll always have me,” they chuckle while sinking into the plushness of the couch, wishing the ground underneath their feet would open up and swallow them whole any minute now. 

But they meant it. If whoever Chan liked didn’t feel the same way, Minho would be there. _Always._

  
  


Sometimes, I overthink things into the ground.

Sometimes, I’m too afraid to try.

Sometimes, I let life pass by me, just like that. 

Usually, I don’t do anything on the spur of the moment. 

But today, I kissed him. 

My roommate.

  
  


Sometimes it’s best to quit when you’re ahead

Sometimes it’s better not to try if you may fail

Sometimes it’s better to walk away than stay

Usually, I would let that stop me.

  
  


But I didn’t let it stop me, 

My name is Lee Minho. I used to go to JYP University; I was your average college student. 

  
  


And my roommate never loved me back. 

  
  


* * *

Chan was afraid of this. His bicycle wheels turn over the wet track, the speed bringing the cold rain onto his face harder than it would if he were walking. The boy’s hoodie gave up on keeping his body dry a while ago and now his backpack was as damp as his legs. _On a rainy day like this, the only thing that'll keep me warm is my own movement,_ thought Chan. 

The elevator sign still reads ‘ **Out of Order** ’. Chan chuckles, “Feels a little bit like my life right now,” he slightly murmurs to himself as he drags his legs towards the staircase. Walking up the flight of stairs felt tiresome, his body carrying the weight of the downpour and the heartache. Which felt worse, the man didn’t know. 

Chan wasn’t sure what to expect on the other side of the front door to his apartment, but he knew he was afraid. He also couldn’t just stand out here in the hallway all night, so he had to suck it up and open the door to whatever was left of the space he once called his home. Chan took a deep breath and punched in the keycode to his apartment. That keycode. He had to change the keycode, for punching in that number combination pained him and he couldn’t bear to do it anymore. He knows what it meant, they both did. 

He opened the door to a strange darkness. His heart thumped against his chest, his breath slowing down. Chan flipped the light switch and was confronted with…

...with how neat and immaculate his apartment was. 

It wasn’t cluttered, there were no paint supplies strewn across the floor or empty cups on the coffee table. There was no classical music playing from the record player, no one sitting in a rainbow of colour coated overalls. There were no half-painted canvases and other paper paraphernalia littered around Chan’s table or postcards decorating his now rather plain-looking bookshelf. Everything had been wiped clean, like a gracious parting gift that left Chan’s mouth feeling dry. “Really left it the way it was before huh?” the man looked down as his feet tapped away at a slow rhythm, Chan’s eyes were getting slightly misty. 

I guess that was something Chan had grown to love, how they saw the world as it was, a beautiful array of colours and shapes, voids and space, love and fear. Some painted out off the canvas while others painted in a smaller area than provided. And then there were those who ran their strokes over and into the lives of many others either ruining their work or creating something utterly beautiful. They were such an artist, one who saw the world for how it was supposed to be seen; with an open heart, mind, body, soul. It was all the same to them; the art of the world.

**_Can I even call this home?_ **

Right now, Chan wasn’t too sure. Everything was too organized. Too much like how he used to leave it. He tried to keep everything as orderly as possible, especially when his mind tended not to.

But this. This cold, desolate space was something he couldn’t recognize. No, it didn’t feel like home. It felt like a doctor’s office with how sterile it was. Chan hated it.

He missed the warmth, the sincerity that chaotic mess had. The imprint refused to leave, he couldn’t shake off no matter what he did. That mess felt like hot cocoa on a cold autumn’s night, bundled up in blankets together on the couch, watching Christmas movies, despite it not being Christmas yet. It felt like coming home from a long workday only to be pulled into a deep kiss and a loving sigh against Chan’s pale collarbone. It felt like watching them move, choreographed by the wind; like fitting into their embrace in perfect time with one another, dancing without a care. It was everything he looked forward to, a signal to him that they were here and that they had made a home here with him. Chan fucking missed it. Chan fucking missed them.

  
  


He fucking missed Minho.

* * *

{ A/N - I would recommend listening to the song Years by Astrid S while reading this portion

_When you meet someone who has someone_

_Is it your fault if you fall in love?_

**8:58 pm**

Eight minutes earlier than they usually leave. Minho will reach home a little after 10. They will heat leftovers for dinner, and while they eat they usually compile art ideas to finish up for that Monday’s class that the brunette on most days isn’t looking forward to. 

Ever since they came to Seoul, Minho followed a routine, it helped them remain calm, keeping them sane for the most part. The only time they broke this routine was when Hyunjin or Jisung dropped by unexpectedly at their apartment. Sometimes they’d bring Felix along - if bun was in Seoul

They had no other reason to step off their routine. Their apartment was 5 songs away, 2 if they decided to listen to a podcast instead. Minho pushed one of the earbuds into their ear, and was about to shove the phone into their coat pocket when the brunette heard the soft ghost of their name. 

“Minho...” 

It came from behind them. A voice they could recognise anywhere. A voice they had tried to spend the last two years trying to forget. 

_When you know that you could hurt someone_

_Is it your fault if you get involved?_

Minho wanted to run. They could pretend that they had not heard their name being called out because of the earphones. The boy knew that if they didn’t run, their routine for tonight would be ruined, heck probably even the whole of next week. The last time they had spoken to Chan, the younger didn't leave their room for a week, and god knows the many sobs they had managed to choke down. 

Sometimes, it's easier to not know than to know everything.

Sometimes, it's easier to ignore and move on than dive into it headfirst.

Sometimes, it's easier to walk away than confront.

Usually, this is where Minho would stop.

_It's a mistake and my heart's gonna break_

_It'll probably take me years to get over_

But curiosity gets the better of them. Minho’s slightly sun-bleached hair ruffled against the slight wind blowing past. The younger one hasn't seen Chan in two years now. They wanted to know whether he still had purple hair, like he used to have when they were…

...or if he had grown it out, like he wanted to. Maybe he had even grown taller than Minho. 

So they took a shallow breath and turned around. 

Chan had not grown taller than them. 

But that was not where the similarities seemed to end. 

His hair was not long, it was still bright purple. _It still suits him well_. He had gotten a few piercings Minho noticed, they could see a few new earrings lining his ear. He was wearing makeup - eyeliner to be exact, and he was wearing... colours?

**Orange.**

**_Cute._ **

Minho’s heart is pounding away in their chest but they try to ignore it and slow their breathing.

Sometimes, friends turn lovers

Sometimes, lovers turn enemies

Sometimes, neither happens

Usually, you turn into strangers.

The nausea swirled unrestrained in the younger’s empty stomach. Minho’s head swam with half-formed regrets. Their heartfelt as if the blood had become tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. 

“Chan…” He breathed out, not bothering to take a step closer. 

Hearing his name, Chan blinked, his eyes still staring at Minho’s face. 

Was he trying to soak in all the differences in his old roommate just as Minho did a second ago? 

“Minho…it’s been a while.” He smiled. 

The smile was strained, and the ‘Minho’ seemed too formal all of a sudden. 

**_We never did formal, Why now?_ **

Minho wanted to run. 

Instead, they nodded, “Two years” 

_Even the hurt, yeah I know that it's worth_

Chan’s fingers tightened around his shoulder bag, even though his appearance remained unscathed, he was still just as scared. And nervous. Minho took a note of this. 

“Anyways.” Chan cleared his throat, grinning at them. His smile felt too bright for the crowded streets of Seoul. “I saw your exhibition, your art pieces were beautiful. As always.” He took a step closer towards the younger, testing the waters before diving in. 

Minho didn’t move backwards. “Yeah—” They say, before looking away, checking their watch. When will the bus get here? 

They decided to add a quick “—thanks” for good measure. 

Chan clears his throat. “I’ll get to the point then, you seem busy.” 

Minho nodded, shoving their hands into their pockets, Chan didn’t need to see them shaking. 

“Seungmin and Jeongin are having their engagement party next Saturday, they’re busy planning, so Wonpil Hyung and I are giving out invites,” 

“You...You remember Wonpil Hyung right?”

“I do remember—What does this have to do with me,” questioned the taller.

**9:07 pm**

_All the years it'll take for me to get over you, you_

The older rummaged through their now open black bag, and pulled out an envelope, holding it out to Minho. “It would be really great if you could come, I know you’re probably busy but it’s just one-“ 

“Who all will be there?” Minho asked. The real problem was obviously not spoken about. It remained like an elephant in the room. 

Chan blinked, “Everyone from our college, their family, and some of their work friends too.”

Minho tried to ask again, “Is anyone from the other universities coming?” 

“I...um I think so, not everyone though, just the people who Jeongin and Seungmin are close to—” He chuckled, but the younger could feel the tension under his words. Chan knew what Minho wanted to know about, but he was trying his best to avoid that topic. 

Minho wanted to scream at the purple-haired man. 

**_It wasn’t fair._ **

_Years to get over you, you_

It wasn’t fair how the older could just talk to Minho after two years of ignoring them and pretend that there was nothing wrong, pretend like what happened after their graduation ceremony didn’t drive Chan away from them. It wasn’t fair in any sense to Minho.

They wanted to tell Chan that. 

Instead, they took the envelope and took a step back. 

“I’ll see if I have the time,” Minho whispered, already walking away. 

“I need to go now.”

**9: 19 pm**

Ever since they came to Seoul, Minho followed a routine, it helped them remain calm, keeping them sane for the most part. But the routine no longer mattered.


	2. We were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heylo <33 
> 
> i forgot to add slight mentions of alcohol and smoking last time but even this chapter has those :] its pretty short, wrote it while listening to Never Not by Lauv ^^  
> enjoy xo

Chan sighed once again and walked to the kitchen in defeat. He wanted—no, he _needed_ a drink. He needed to put on a Bob Dylan record on his turntable to drown out his mindless thoughts. He needed to go to the cupboard and retrieve his favourite brandy and pour it into a drinking glass. He needed to take a sip of the alcohol and longed to draw a warm path down his still parched throat. Chan could feel the tension in his body slowly dissipate with each sip of the need.

He then walked over to one of his many vinyl shelves in the living room and looked through the Bob Dylan section. He pulled out **Blowin’ In The Wind** , one of his favourite records and put it on the turntable. Rock music emanated from the speakers and Chan stepped outside onto the balcony to watch the moon playing hide and seek with the sky. He sat on the patio chair, digging through his pockets to fish one out a cigarette from his pack, the glass of brandy perched on the table next to him. The Seoul city night chilled his body in the best way.

The December air was frigid. It was really cold, but Chan didn’t mind. He loved the fall and winter months. He hated the heat, even though Minho loved it. But he couldn’t and shouldn’t be thinking about them right now. He shouldn’t think about how his boyfriend of three years was now his ex-boyfriend. To think about it would dig a deeper hole into his already tattered heart and he just couldn’t take it.

This was what he needed. Alcohol, his vinyls, a cigarette, and the cold night air to relax his overworked bones. Especially Bob Dylan. Chan wasn’t sure what he’d do without him and his music. Even though he tried not to actively think about it, he still thought about it. Thought about what went wrong in their relationship. He recalls the fight, the discussion, whatever it was that started it all; running his fingers through bright purple. **_You liked my hair, I still kept it._ **

“Channie, we can’t do this anymore…” Minho looked tired. Like really tired. Chan never saw them like that before. Exhausted, defeated. He hated it.

But he couldn’t help but bite back. “What the fuck do you mean, Minho?”

They sighed and looked at Chan in the eye, “You can’t be in a relationship. You just can’t. Every time I try to talk to you, you push me away. You never want to talk about anything that has to do with us! Do you even love me still?”

“Of course, I do!” Chan yelled back, he loved and adored Minho with his whole heart and soul. But he just didn’t want to talk about this.

“Really? Then, when are we going to get married?” Chan choked. He couldn’t answer that. His stomach flipped at that prospect. Yes, he wanted to be with Minho, but no, he wasn’t sure about marriage. Minho questioned him further, “Do you even want to get married?”

“I—I don’t know, Min. I—I’m not ready for that,” Chan brought the heels of his hands to his eyes to block out the sadness in Minho’s. He’d rather see static, than look into those rich brown eyes.

Minho sighed, their breath coming out shaky, like they were holding back the tears. The silence was so loud, it made Chan’s ears ring. After a moment, Minho spoke, “Well then, it looks like we’re on two different pages...I’ll start packing. I’m going to stay at Hyunjin’s…” They marched towards their shared bedroom.

Chan felt his chest tighten. He followed Minho, panicking. “Wait! Minho, just hold on!” The shorter reached out, making them pull away further, hands slightly shaking as they utter, “I can’t anymore, Chan!” 

Minho was crying now, tears streaming down their slightly tanned cheeks. “This isn’t fair to both of us. You and I want different things. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Please, just let me go.”

Chan was frantic, “Baby, I love you. I fucking love you. Don’t do this.” He was crying now, professing his love to them, even though he was pretty sure he was too late. Minho turned around and ignored him. They started packing their clothes, putting them into an overnighter bag and going into their ensuite bathroom and getting their toiletries. After they were done, the younger stood in front of Chan, who was sitting on the bed, staring into space.

“I’ll be back later tomorrow to pack up more of my things. Please, don’t be _here_ when I do.” And with that, they turned and walked towards the front door. They left. Out of the apartment and out of Chan’s heart.

* * *

That was around a month ago. And a week back, while Chan was at work, Minho must have moved all of their things out, completing and sealing their breakup. 

It was official. 

Chan and Minho were to live completely separate lives without each other. 

And it hurt. 

It fucking stung. 

He took a drag of his cigarette and let the heat hit his lungs, the way it always had since he was 19 years old. Old habits die hard, and this one was bound to come back.

Chan just had to get used to this. He’d been through breakups before. He knew the trials and tribulations every breakup entailed. He rested his head against the back of the chair, looking up at the sky, staring at the stars. He was 26, alone, and newly single. 

_What sort of sick and twisted alternate universe was this?_

His cigarette was at its end and Chan gently stubbed it out on the ashtray. His brandy was done as well. With a heavy groan, he lifted his tired body and lifelessly walked back into his sad apartment. Chan honestly hated being here alone. But Minho was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Chan walked to ~~their~~ his bedroom now and flipped on the lights. He was too exhausted to process anything further, so he slid underneath the warm and inviting fleece blankets and thick comforter and laid down in his bed, without changing a thing. However, he couldn’t help but feel like the bed was empty and cold. It most definitely was. He looked over to what used to be Minho’s side of it and tried to stop the sting of tears in his eyes. It just felt so fucking wrong, this empty space that was next to him. It needed Minho's warm body lying down on it to make it feel complete. Chan yet again hated the fact that he would have to get used to it.

_Will I get sleep at least tonight?_

* * *

A decent night’s sleep, something that had been alluding him for weeks. Chan, fortunately, was successful this time. 

The next morning, Chan woke up with a shitty headache. He really regretted drinking, but as he forced himself out of bed, brushing the suppressed feelings off. Today, he had to work although he wasn't very pleased to be in the office engaging with anyone. Honestly, he just wanted to sit and sulk all day in his room. He knows that if he does he will be plagued by phone calls and texts from his unnecessarily worried staff asking him where he was and whether he was all right. And it wasn't worth lying in bed for that.

After Chan graduated college in Seoul, with a degree in music production and marketing he wanted to start producing for small not-so-far renowned artists. He decided to open up a recording studio with money that he saved from working part-time jobs. His dad—the first person who introduced him to music and vinyl records in particular, also helped him out by lending him some money to open up his studio. And that was how ‘Vinyl Nights’ came about. That was till he got the offer to work as a producer in one of the leading production companies; PYJ Entertainment. Music was always important to Chan. It was what kept him sane and it gave him a reason to wake up in the morning. When he was 10 years old, his father gave him his very first vinyl record, a Bob Dylan, of course. ‘ **Blonde About Blonde** ’ changed his life, and from there it was all Chan could think of. He became obsessed with vinyl, collecting them from thrift stores and other record stores. His dad and him would scavenge for old records all the time, while he was growing up. It was one of their bonding activities. He learnt to play the guitar and the piano, it didn’t come off as a surprise when the bright eyed boy decided to get into production. Music was all he knew. And all he truly loved.

It’s in college where he taught himself how to record and produce his own songs. He started rapping too, after listening to Epik High, Crush and a few other Korean hip hop and rap artists. As CB97, he wrote, recorded, and produced mixtapes along with two others. He had a Soundcloud, though he hadn’t updated in years. He was not sure why, but he began to lose his zeal for it. He didn't feel like he could continue producing, but Minho still tried to get him to compose again. And now? He wasn't in the right mindset.

But what was the right mindset?

Chan, for one, no longer felt alone. Whenever he used to, the music and lyrics he wrote guided him home. He had begun to understand that being with Minho _didn’t_ make him lonely. It made him feel complete, until it _didn’t_.

He knew that now. 

* * *

The walk to the company took him 15 minutes from his apartment. He was lucky to have scored a place that was within walking distance. He didn’t really like driving and he tolerated public transportation, so this was great. The sunlight draped in through the big windows and lit up his whole home and it just reminded him again that he was even more alone, and that Minho was no longer living there. When he got in, he wordlessly walked back towards his office. Jeongin and Seungmin, his two longest co-employees and best friends, greeted him, but he just grunted in response. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. When he got to his office, he was confronted by the painting hanging behind the wall of his desk, a painting of them together.

Him and Minho. 

Chan quickly took it down, unable to look at it, and placed it behind the oak filing cabinets. He’d rather not see it. He set his bag down and sat on his desk, fingers strumming away against the desk. How the fuck was he going to be able to get through today? He still had a headache that pounded his skull. The man pinched the bridge of his nose and blindly opened his desk drawer to find some painkillers. He felt the familiar square shaped box and opened it up. Grabbing a water bottle from his bag, Chan swallowed two pills, and gulped down his water. It will hopefully take care of one challenge for today.

Chan stood up and stared at the turned down canvas, peeking from the side. He wasn’t sure what to do with it. He didn’t want to touch it, he didn’t want to do anything. He was afraid that physically moving the art and putting it away would make all of this breakup shit real. Not like it wasn’t already. But he didn’t need the reminder. Not right now.

He took a deep breath and decided to check his schedule for today. Chan had been working as executive music head for about 4 years now, a year prior to meeting them and he was pretty proud of it. Rows and rows of records were displayed at his office too (just like home), sorted by genre and alphabetical order. 

“Hyung! Glad you’re here. We’re discussing what to do with this new beat that Yeji left with us last night,” Jeongin greeted him, throwing his arm around Chan. He met Jeongin when they both had the same music theory class. He was smart and had a knack for grasping instruments which pretty much made him a genius in Chan’s eyes. They quickly bonded one day, when Jeongin asked Chan what he was listening to in his earphones, in class. 

Chan was confused, “‘Beat?’ What do you mean?”

Seungmin, his other long time friend, joined them. “Well this beat Yeji left with us, is too high pitched to piece in together with the rest of the arrangement, we may have to either not use it or change the tempo of the beat. I think changing the tempo would be the best way to go with it.” 

“I’m going to have to go with not using it at all, it's not the best beat...I am sure we can come up with a better arrangement without it anyways. It’s not needed, I think....Yeah, no, don’t need it definitely,” Jeongin answered. 

They both looked at Chan, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t have to think about this at all. “Send it to my mail, let me have a look,” he simply answered. Jeongin and Seungmin both nodded. 

Both Jeongin and Seungmin knew about his breakup with Minho and they tried to give him space. The guys were sad, as expected, considering how close they were with them. If they wanted to hang out with Minho, that was fine Chan supposed. He just didn’t want to know about it. His co-worker Daehwi was currently dating Hyunjin, Minho’s friend and owned a hair salon. It was inevitable for him to run into Minho, whenever he went to visit Hyunjin to get a haircut or to get his hair dyed. It was fine. Everything was fine. Chan would find a way to get over it.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now.

The rest of the day went by peacefully. Workload came and went. Some meetings took place, some meetings got rescheduled. But all in all, Chan felt okay for the most part. He still hadn’t touched the painting which lay behind the cabinet, and no one else did either. They knew what was going on in his head and they just left it. Thank God. 

He had some _really_ good friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy~  
> this is literally my first fic ever on ao3 *cries*...  
> the POV's keep shifting from past and present I hope it makes sense :3 like i said there was an attempt at writing chapters, leave comments if you liked it maybe?  
> dedicated to the two people who were there for me and wanted this badly smh :]  
> my [au account](https://twitter.com/moonsungiee) and [main](https://twitter.com/lilhanniebins)


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